


Secret Sketches

by Kamiki



Series: Tumblr Fanfic Prompts [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Art, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sketches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 10:26:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2064573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamiki/pseuds/Kamiki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm doing small fic requests/prompts on Tumblr!  Get one of your own at http://foxyfussings.tumblr.com/ask</p>
<p>araniaart said: Bucky finds a hidden sketchbook of Steve’s… Either historical OR post TWS.</p>
<p>Based loosely off a scene mentioned in Bodies Studies, by Ark.  Perhaps a psuedo-prequel, if you will :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret Sketches

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AraniaArt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AraniaArt/gifts), [Ark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ark/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Body Studies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/596718) by [Ark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ark/pseuds/Ark). 



Bucky tore through the drawers and cabinets of their tiny Brooklyn flat, looking for a damned piece of paper. He cursed to himself, slamming the last drawer shut. Well fuck, if he didn’t get his ass down to the post office by three then Caroline was going to go ballistic. He has promised her he would write after her trip up to New York to visit colleges, and seeing that her father has seemed like a really serious kind of guy, at the very least he needed to put up appearances at least for a while.

He put his hands in his pocket and pulled out his wallet; a thin leather scrap that was barely holding together at the seems. He had a few dollars in there, but they haven’t bought groceries in two weeks. He sighed and placed his hands on his hips, his eyes darting to the bedroom door. Steve would have a piece of paper he could borrow, surely. He could rip one out of one of his sketchbooks - carefully - and make it up to him later. 

Steve wasn’t around - probably making his rounds around time looking for a job. He slipped into the tiny bedroom; two threadbare cots on either side and a small dresser nestled between them. The top two drawers were his, the bottom two were Steve’s. He went over and pulled open the drawers, quickly shuffling through Steve’s precious few shirts and pants. There were a few art supplies; whittled down pencils and gummed up erasers, but no sketchbooks. Damn. 

He was on his way outta the room when something caught his eye; sticking out between the thin mattress and cot springs was the leather corner of a book. Perhaps…

Bucky pulled out the foot and flipped it open. Bullseye. This was definitely one of Steve’s sketchbooks - the first pages were full of quick gestural sketches of nudes. Figures, the boy probably hadn’t ever see a dirty picture in his life but he sure did like to go those free life drawing classes they had at the colleges sometimes. Hell, when there would be naked women there he would go along with him sometimes. 

But as he flipped through the book looking for a blank page, something caught his eye. Was that what he thought it was? He sat down on the cot and let the book fall open on his lap, revealing some very detailed sketches of naked men. These were different than the quick gestural life sketches he had seem him do before. No, there was a deliberateness to these - they had such a fine detail to every fold, hair, and dip in their musculature. And perhaps most notably… most of them were at full attention in their neither-regions.

Common decency should have led Bucky to slam the notebook shut and shove it back from where he found it. But an electric buzz of excitement tingled down his spine as he flipped another page. There was such a curiosity and bafflement to this clandestine book. Could Steve - his Steve - had really drawn these? It seemed too surreal to believe; the boy would fluster if a girl with a short skirt smiled at him and now…these.

As the pages went on, the sketches got more explicit. First the men in the pictures would be stroking their erect cocks with study, strong hands. Then a close up on a man’s lips; and stubble being dragged over someone’s sculpted thigh. 

Like the artist (….Steve!) was getting more secure with what he liked, and what he was drawing, the men in the pictures began to interact. These mostly faceless, David-esque men were holding one another; kissing. Soon, as the pages progressed, they were inside each other. A larger man was taking a smaller, less muscular one from behind. Fingers pressed into the skin of his hips; hands tangled into the blankets in such a way it almost looked as if he was grasping on to the paper itself.

Next page, a man lay on his back with his thighs open, his lover nestled between them. His face was buried in his shoulder, their bodies coming together with a passion that could even be felt through the strokes in the graphite. 

Next page, a man head was thoroughly engaged in the lap of his partner, fingers weaving through hair and cheeks distended from the activities presented.

Bucky was suddenly aware that the temperature in the room seemed to skyrocket. A warm flush was spreading over his body, and his shaky hands finally closed to the book as he ran a hand through his damp, brown curls. He swallowed, his mouth feeling like cotton as she stood up, blushing even deeper as his noticed how well his body seemed to have responded to the forbidden images he had seen. Caroline was long forgotten as Bucky shoved the sketchbook back under the bed. Bucky was flabbergasted that his little skinny Steve could even imagine such things… much less actually take the time and concentration to immortalize them on paper. 

But then… then he was a little angry. It wasn’t like the idea hadn’t crossed his mind before. They lived in one of those neighborhoods and Steve was small and artsy and all. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been called queer a million times before. Or even that Bucky might have even suspected so himself. But dammit, if that was the case, why didn’t Steve say anything? I mean, he was his best, wasn’t he?

How was he supposed to protect the little bastard if he wasn’t honest with him?

He took a deep breath and stormed out of the room; he needed a drink.

**Author's Note:**

> Have a fic request? Send it to me here: http://foxyfussings.tumblr.com/ask


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